To the Dear and Deathless Memory of
MY FATHER
I Dedicate This Little Book.
A string is snapped in the echoing lute,
A chord in the harmony fallen mute,
There's a tint the less in the rainbow-span,
And a missing point in the stars' bright plan,
A hand-clasp lacking, the warmth it gave
Lost, and the earth has another grave.
A chord in the harmony fallen mute,
There's a tint the less in the rainbow-span,
And a missing point in the stars' bright plan,
A hand-clasp lacking, the warmth it gave
Lost, and the earth has another grave.
A taper quenched by a mighty breath,
A gate unbarred by the hand of Death,
A magnet, set in a rarer air,
To draw our thoughts and desires there,
Thus, Dear Heart, through all our grief for thee
Comes the healing balm of thy memory.
A gate unbarred by the hand of Death,
A magnet, set in a rarer air,
To draw our thoughts and desires there,
Thus, Dear Heart, through all our grief for thee
Comes the healing balm of thy memory.
